


Prompt Fill madness

by BairnSidhe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/pseuds/BairnSidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I'm sticking my prompt fills from tumblr.  Pretty much going to be a collection of one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fili-is-a-father, Dis-is-not-impressed

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fill I did on my first ever all access prompt day.
> 
> Dedicated to tigerliliesandcherryblossoms, the tumblr user who prompted this:
> 
> Everyone Lives AU: Dis observing her grand-dwarflings' shenanigans & making the classic grandparent comment - 'you have the dwarflings you earned back when you were that age' while cackling at frazzled or flabbergasted grown Kili & Fili.

Fili scrunched his hands into his hair.  This was not as satisfying as it would be if his hair was loose like he preferred, with only his Line, Family and Craft braids, because he had to keep his hair bound tightly back.  His youngest, Disa, had a fondness for pulling hair.  He could live with her decision that his moustache braids were teething toys, but her newfound glee in grabbing handfuls of hair and  _pulling_  could not be borne.  So, back his hair went,

The current cause of his desire to clench his hand into his hair was his eldest, Thili.  Thili had got to that defiant stage common in the forties.  Fili was losing the battle to keep his eldest from trying the new fad of dying one’s beard.  Call him old fashioned, but a beard was sacred and turning it green was beyond the pale.  He had gone to his mother for help, (even her precious grandbabies respected her fierceness), but had not received the sympathy he thought he’d get.

"Do you remember what all the young dwarrow were doing when you were that age?  Shaving patterns into their beards!  Actually shaving off hair for fashion!  I did my best to stop you, but you did it anyway.  Took you ages to grow back a normal beard.  Still wasn’t a respectable length when you retook the mountain."

"But Mother…"

"No "but mothers", young man.  Your son takes after you, and if you want sympathy, go to someone who didn’t have to deal with you when you were young and stupid.  You have the dwarflings you earned when you were young."

"Thanks, Ma, you’re a font of wisdom and kindness."

"You bet your axe I am.  Now go try to reign in your son, I want to see this."

Fili rolled his eyes and silently begged Mahal for patience, dinner tonight would be a battle.


	2. Just Around the Corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by tamarama.
> 
> The Museum of Modern Art is one of the most prestigious curated art collections on the planet; it is a beacon of western culture for all the world to see. It is also designed with a deliberateness to the experience for the patron, one where they are somewhat led through an experience. One of the most visually stimulating paintings in existence, both because of its sheer size (nearly 9’x17’) and in the technique used to produce it, is “around a corner.” You do not catch sight of this painting—One by Jackson Pollack—until after you round the corner. Almost every patron sees it from this same spot, at least initially. So your task, dear friend, is to have our two museum visitors meet because of Jackson Pollack’s One.

 

The asset (your name is James Buchanan Barnes) had done his research.  Ordinarily, he was handed a packet on the mission, prepared before they even thawed him.  But somehow he knew how to search out information.  He had looked at every book in the library about his mission (Stevie), he had seen the pictures of Bucky Barnes (you’re my friend), and when he compared the picture to his own face, they seemed the same.  He had gone to the museum to see the exhibit on Steve Rogers (Punk), and some memories started to surface, like grainy photographs yellowed with age, not anything like his memories of being the asset.  Some of the memories were odd, off.  Slightly shiny, like wet metal, he recalled the glory of Mother Russia and the pride of his homeland, but then a different memory, rough, grim and grey, of telling a man with a British accent that there was no way a prim Brit could out drink a native son of Brooklyn. (No way, Monty, keep dreamin’.  Ourwater’s a stiffer drink than English beer!)

New York.  New York featured in most of the memories that felt right.  He needed to go to Brooklyn if he were to find the answers he needed.  He spent days looking at buildings that weren’t right.  That condominium should be apharmacy.  Those apartments are supposed to be shops.  Why the ever loving fuck is an ice-cream parlor a CVS!

He can’t tell by looking at the buildings what is true and what is not.  He chases the memories like Alice after the White Rabbit.  He remembers drawings, good ones, and slim, bony hands guiding pencils across paper intobeauty. (Jesus, Steve, you could sell those!)  The art rings true.  He does a quick search in a phone book for museums.  MOMA has an address listed.

He’s wandering the halls, but none of the paintings look like the drawings he remembers.  He’s about to give up when he runs into a tall, broad shouldered man who has, for reasons unknown, stopped in the middle of the hallway.

"Gee, I’m so sorr-Bucky?"

It’s the man from the helicarrier.  His mission (my friend), but he’s not the mission anymore.  He won’t kill this man (with you til the end of the line).  But the man (my best guy), he does have information the asset (Sgt. James Barnes, of the 107th) needs.

"Who is Bucky?"

"You are.  I’ve been looking for you, I swear, but Sam was right, I needed to take a break.  So I came here."

"No.  Who is Bucky Barnes?  I’ve read the books, watched the shows, went to the museum.  But I still don’t know  _who_  Bucky Barnes is.  I need to know!”

"Bucky Barnes is my best friend in the whole world.  He saw me when I was invisible.  He always had my back.  I would do anything to save him from harm or death.  But the one time he needed me, I failed him.  Bucky Barnes is who you were.  And you may never be that guy again, Lord knows I’m not the guy I was when we met.  But I sure hope you can still be my friend."

The asset (Bucky Barnes) thinks.  ”I can try.  Why were you standing like that?”

"I just saw that painting.  I wasn’t expecting it, so I stopped to look at it."

"What painting?"

"Stand here," Steve motioned to a spot.  The asse-no-Bucky moved to stand where Steve pointed.  There was indeed a painting there.  Together they stood there, looking at the massive painting.

"Your art was better," Bucky mutters.  Steve gives no response, but slides his hand into Bucky’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com


	3. Ice Skating in Ered Luin

"Come on, Dori!  The lake’s frozen solid, and you promised we could go skating."  Ori was already bundled in at least five layers of knitwear, his skates slung over one shoulder.  The skates were good quality, better than they could have afforded, but several of Ori’s possessions were.  Mostly the things Nori got him.

"Have you got a scarf on?"

"Yes, a scarf, a jacket, two sweaters, a heavy coat, long underwear… everything.  And my chores are done and Mister Balin gave all the apprentices the day off.  Let’s  _go_!”

The lake was a popular place.  In summer it provided blissfully cool water, in the winter it froze and gave rise to an entire generation that adored skating.  Dori was old enough that  he would have preferred the winter pastime of sledding (there was one particular foothill of Erebor that was a perfect sled run), but Ori had only ever known the skate-pond of Ered Luin.

Dori sat on the side of the lake, on a rock that some helpful dwarrow had cleared of snow, and watched Ori glide on the frozen surface.  He got into a race with an older Dwarf, who obviously thought size and strength would win the race, but Ori was fast and nimble.  After the race, one of Ori’s friends pulled him into a variation on Crack the Whip, which soon encompassed the entire lake.  As Dwarflings went flying off the train, their shrieks of laughter echoed from the mountainsides.

Ered Luin might never feel like home to Dori, but it was good to his brother, and that was enough.


	4. Nwalin Bodyswap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompted by tigerliliesandcherryblossoms on tumblr
> 
> Gandalf (or one of the blueses) swaps Nori and Dwalin's bodies as a life lesson.

In hindsight, Nori thought, it was probably a bad idea to steal from a wizard.  That pipe was probably cursed.  Not probably, definitely, he though as he looked down at hands that were not his.  He knew them, though, big rough hands with warriors ink.  He didn’t need the polished square of metal in the corner to know he’d see a gruff face and tattooed head.

»»»>

Meanwhile, Dwalin was waking in a cave up in the bad rock above New Belegost.  In hindsight, he thought, telling that old man that he had more serious crimes to investigate was a bad idea.  The Man had gone from harmless vagabond upset over a missing pipe to towering and terrible, and even now his booming voice echoed in Dwalin’s head.

"If I tell you to seek the thief it is not for my benefit, Master Dwarf, but your own!  Walk a day in his shoes and thank me later!"

»»»

Nori decided to try to carry out Dwalin’s schedule.  He’d memorized it years ago.  Since the Guard Captain hardly ever used full sentences, he got past the clerks at the guard-house, locked himself in his office and searched the papers for a report of pipe-theft.  He couldn’t return it without finding the wizard.

»»>

Dwalin picked his way down the slopes of fallen shale praying that he’d not fall to his doom in another’s body, thief or no.  But his stone sense was stronger in this body, and he knew where not to step.  Once in town he realized he was hungry but had no money to buy food.  He stumbled closer and closer to the guard-house, accustoming himself to the lightheaded feeling of deep hunger.  Half way there, he was grabed around the middle by a dwarfling.

"NORI!  You’re back!  Do you have any treats?"

"No, not this time.  Sorry."  Dwalin noted the patched and darned clothes the dwarfling wore, and the thinness of his cheeks and his heart broke a little.  Lacking a proper trade, even he would resort to theft to give this little one food and warm clothes.

"Ori!  Come away at once!" called a silver haired Dwarf.  He came closer and whispered in Dwalin’s general direction, and if his new ears weren’t as sensitive as they were, he’d never have heard it,

"Sorry, brother, I know you can’t be recognized here.  But you should have braided the warning braid in before coming to the market if you’re working."

»»>

Nori couldn’t find any report or piece of paper that spoke of the stolen (cursed) pipe.  He did find reports on five jobs he knew of, and three he did not and greatly disapproved of.  Judging by the evidence left at the scene of the arson that took place dangerously near the district Dori and Ori lived in, it was Fire-Fingers, a dwarf who liked to hide other crimes in flame.  Nori wrote down everything he knew about Fire-Fingers, tucked the note in with the other papers on the arson and moved on to the grain-poisoning.

»»»>

By the time Dwalin made it to the guard house he felt like he would faint.  As he was trying to explain that he needed to see Captain Dwalin (and wasn’t that a laugh), he did pitch over.

»»»»

Nori and Dwalin switched back almost as soon as they touched.  Dwalin ordered food brought to the pretty thief immediately and was surprised to find that the pipe that started the whole mess had been hidden in his hair.

Years later, when Dwalin’s beard was white and Nori’s eyebrows were too thin to braid into his hair, they would sit and smoke together and talk of the first time they met, and Dwalin had to admit, the Wizard had a point when he had said to seek the thief.


	5. It needs to sparkle more than the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by braidedribbon on tumblr, "It needs to sparkle more than the sky""
> 
> Darcy is a good Maiden of Honor. Jane just doesn't see it.

Finally, after a long (longer than Darcy thought necessary) period of negotiations with Asgard, Jane and Thor were engaged.  This mean wedding planning, and since Jane was, well,  _Jane_ , Darcy took that on.  The wedding's theme was Stars and the Night Sky, they had rented a planetarium for the ceremony and it was pretty bitchin' if Darcy would say so herself, which she did.

The problem came with Jane's dress.  Jane had opted for a Renaissancey design based off Asgardian styles.  It was simple and refined and elegant and soooooo dull.  So Darcy was forced to extremes.  She called up a friend who was on the local Irish Dance circuit and offered her wine and nutella sandwiches in exchange for services rendered.

The woman arrived bearing a gigantic box of crystals and all the tools to attach them.  "What are you going for?" she asked, looking at the velvet gown.

"It needs to shine, to stand out.  And we're going to be having the ceremony under the best artificial starlight money can buy.  It needs to sparkle more than the sky."

"Can do."

Jane's wedding went off without a hitch and everybody loved her dress, even if the bride had not been thrilled to try it on the day of the wedding to find five pounds of crystal had been added overnight.  At least the crystals had been added in the patterns of the constellations.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at bairnsidhe.tumblr.com
> 
> Every Friday is Prompt Day, where I will write a thing for any prompt sent me. If your prompt gets more than 25 notes, it gets added to this work.


End file.
